Though solemn, "Monday Morning Church" still remains accessible, likewise What I Do focuses on substance versus sensationalism. Case-in-point is the live-recorded "To Do What I Do." As Alan sings "I've been a waiter, a roofer, a clerk," in order to eventually "...be something I've always been in my heart," we applaud his artistic triumph; with the words "I've played for empty tables and chairs/Drunks that don't listen, crowds that don't care," we can't help but hear the echo of his career: the organic, dues-paid rise, the commitment and heartbreak, the dreams of a people's champion.
All of these seeming dichotomies-'everyman' and 'individual,' 'contemporary' and 'traditional,' 'superstardom' and 'humility'- are the natural result of a long-ago adoption of hard work and basic integrity. Specifically, Alan's music displays the influence of his Newnan, Georgia upbringing: big family, small house, blue-collar ethics. His father taught him to work on cars, his mother's Sunday gospel segued into the country radio of the workweek. Having earned his stripes in honky-tonks, Alan and wife Denise (his high-school sweetheart) eventually scrimped, saved and moved to Nashville. Following a trying series of clock-jobs and close calls, eventual publishing cuts earned Jackson a spot on the Arista Nashville roster. Fifteen years and 43 Top 10's later, he's still a guy who drives a dented pickup on a dirt road for fun. Difference is that now he writes a song about it, reaching millions of people ["Drive (For Daddy Gene)," from 2002's Drive].
Indeed, What I Do is the iconic stuff of the jukebox: a bare-bones album whose songs collectively rise above compilation placement, pure nostalgia or one-off cache. Though certainly Jackson's hits have transcended their country constructs ["Where Were You (When The World Stopped Turning)," "Chattahoochee," "Gone Country," among others], his career has never been song-specific. Fact is, on an Alan Jackson record, "Too much of a good thing...is a good thing."